


A Father and His Son

by Bunney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunney/pseuds/Bunney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco receives the Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Father and His Son

**Author's Note:**

> Original version posted to Livejournal in May 2004. This is a revised version of the original.

  
**Title:** A Father and His Son  
 **Author:** Krissy  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Characters:** Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy  
 **Summary:** Draco receives the Mark.  
 **Author's Notes:** Original version posted to Livejournal in May 2004. This is a revised version of the original.  
 **Spoilers:** AU post-PoA.  
 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.

 

 

Lucius Malfoy stood framed in the doorway of Draco’s bedroom, the light from the corridor illuminating him from behind and turning his long silver hair into a corona. The expression on his handsome, dissolute face was inscrutable.

“What, dare I inquire, weighs so heavily upon your mind, Draco, that you must drown your sorrow in alcohol?” he drawled, sarcasm evident in his cultured voice as he stepped further into the room.

His son, slumped in a chair near the windows, ignored his father; instead, he raised the bottle of firewhiskey dangling from his fist and took a long, slow gulp of the dark liquid. Lucius frowned, fists clenching in the folds of his robes, determined to not lose his precarious temper. “I asked you a question, boy. I demand an answer!”

“Is it true, then? You really are a Death Eater. Like Potter said.” It was a hypothetical question, since the answer had been shown to him that very night.

Lucius closed the door, casting the room into darkness, broken only by the gleam of moonlight slanting through the tall windows. With a flick of his wand, he set a fire burning in the cold hearth.

“I may have made an error in judgment. I assumed that you knew or at least suspected my involvement in my Lord’s affairs.”

Draco risked a glance at his father; the elder Malfoy stood near the wardrobe, one hand braced against the dark wood, the other tapping his ebony cane against his thigh. “You worship him...it...that _thing_ ,” he finally said, in a dead whisper.

“I’ll thank you, boy, to show respect to your betters. Lord Voldemort is a great wizard. His plans for our future, for the future of our world, will transform all of our lives...”

“By exterminating the Muggles and the Mudbloods...” Draco snapped, bitterness layering his words.

“Cleansing! Purifying our world. Removing the taint of those not worthy to exist alongside Purebloods.” Lucius moved closer, his robes swirling in the chilled breeze coming through the windows. He lay his hand upon Draco’s shoulder. His lips thinned further as he felt the muscles in his son’s shoulders tense and flinch away from his touch. With malice, he dug into the flesh under the soft linen shirt, knowing just how to place his fingers to achieve a maximum of pain.

He carefully watched Draco’s face and was rewarded with a grimace of anguish. He smiled, as an almost physical satisfaction spread through his body. To Draco’s credit, he never so much as whimpered.

Always so obedient, his son.

Until now.

“When have I ever not given you support, Draco? I have given you an expensive education, every possession you’ve ever desired. I have given you an existence fit for a king. I have even saved your skin on numerous occasions. Do you know that, Draco?”

Draco had stilled beneath his hand, his breath caught in his throat, as wary as a doe in the hunter’s sights. “Yes, sir.”

“Yet you fling back his Lordship’s offer of a place at his side. You show him nothing but disrespect.”

“I’m sorry, Father, but we’re _Malfoys_! We worship at no one’s feet!”

Lucius nodded, understanding his son’s anger. He had taught him well, instilled in him pride and a full appreciation of what it meant to be a Pureblood wizard from one of the oldest magical families in recorded history. “Perhaps you’re right...” Lucius murmured.

A moment passed, then another, and yet another, and Draco, predictably, started to relax.

Lucius Malfoy struck.

Drawing back his arm swiftly, he brought the serpent-headed cane crashing across the back of Draco’s skull, sending the boy hurtling from the chair onto the fireplace hearth. The bottle of firewhiskey shattered on the floor, spilling its contents over the Persian rug.

Draco crashed to his hands and knees, a wound blossoming at the base of his skull, staining his platinum hair crimson. He cried out once, abortively, as if he were struggling to shove the sound back into his lungs. He couldn’t prevent the sting of tears, though, and they slipped down his pale cheeks.

“Get up. Get up before I force you up,” Lucius snarled, as he prodded Draco in the ribs with the cane. “I won’t have the heir of the House of Malfoy groveling in the soot like any common house elf. Get up!”

Draco reached back to gingerly touch the gash on his head, only to have Lucius smack the cane across his wrist. “Let it bleed. We are late for an appointment.”

Reaching out, Lucius gripped Draco’s upper arm and with a loud _crack_ , Disapparated from the room.

 

*****

 

They Apparated into the middle of a clearing, dense foliage and forest surrounding them. Draco swallowed hard, his head pounding and his stomach roiling with nausea. He closed his eyes tight, willing the world to stop spinning, with him at its center. Lucius let go of his arm and Draco bent at the waist, choking back his dinner.

“So, Lucius, I trust that you’ve impressed upon your son the importance of his future in my service.”

Draco knew that sibilant voice, heard for the first time earlier that evening. Voldemort. The Dark Lord. He opened his eyes and focused on the figure standing several feet away, flanked by several Death Eaters, their faces obscured by heavy black hoods and ornately carved silver masks.

He raised up to his full height, but not yet daring to meet those horrible red eyes. He wanted to be brave enough to meet his destiny, as brave as Harry Potter was and _he_ had faced this terrifying creature on many occasions.

He regretted now his treatment of Potter and his friends, but they wouldn’t be there this night to rescue him from the fate that awaited him. As if they would even want to; they’d never believe that he had no desire to follow in Lucius Malfoy’s footsteps. Draco Malfoy was very good at driving away anyone who might have actually given a damn about him.

“Afraid of me, boy?” Voldemort drifted closer, his movements distinctly serpentine. Draco would have taken a step back, but his father stood behind him, his wand out and pressed against the small of his back. “Look at me, Draco Malfoy. Look at me and see your destiny.”

The other Death Eaters moved closer, until they had formed a claustrophobic circle of black robes and even blacker auras. Draco felt as if he were going to choke on his own breath, which was heaving in and out of his chest, his terror ever more obvious. His father’s other hand was gripping his arm, just above the elbow, so tightly he could almost feel the bruises forming.

“Look at him, Draco. You still have time to accept your place within our ranks. You’ll be in a position of more power than you’ve only dreamed possible.” Lucius leaned closer, his hot breath rushing past Draco’s ear, carrying his whispered words. “Make me proud of you. _Be Malfoy_.”

Draco raised his eyes. They were crowding in on him, Lucius to his back, Voldemort filling his vision, the Death Eaters a living, tainted cocoon of evil. His left arm was forced up, the linen sleeve easily torn away.

Voldemort had his wand out, the tip glowing with venomous green magic. He placed the wand against the inside of Draco’s bare forearm and traced it lightly over the pale skin, bathing it in that sickly green light.

“ _Morsmordre!_.”

Only the tightly clustered group of Death Eaters kept Draco on his feet as a scorching pain shattered through his entire body, spiralling outward from the curse being drawn on the flesh of his arm. He flung his head back and screamed; even after Lucius placed a silencing spell on him, Draco’s mouth still stretched wide in a mute shriek.

The Dark Mark, a skull and serpent entwined, blistered into his flesh, so deep it would never be removed. The skin around it charred and the scent made Lucius nearly retch. Draco was convulsing in his arms, as the spell wound its way through him, tarring his soul forever.

Lucius Malfoy cradled his only child and heir in his arms and smiled indulgently. “See, my son. Father knows best.”

~fin~


End file.
